


I Am On The Tip Of Your Tongue

by emilyisobsessed



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, Roleplay, Surgery, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13413012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyisobsessed/pseuds/emilyisobsessed
Summary: Tyson broke his hand blocking a shot in December, and the anesthesia from his surgery temporarily broke his memory. Gabe does his best to help. Kind of.Inspired by thisViral Internet Sensation.





	I Am On The Tip Of Your Tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [gabrielcountryforest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabrielcountryforest/pseuds/gabrielcountryforest) in the [AVSFAM](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/AVSFAM) collection. 



> I’m doing a little handwaving on the length of the effects of anesthesia on memory in this. Nothing too wild, but I’m sure it’s not entirely medically accurate. Also, the fact that he’d get general anesthesia for hand surgery in the first place. In my heart, Tyson would request it.
> 
> Thank you Staci ([gabrielcountryforest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabrielcountryforest/pseuds/gabrielcountryforest)) for prompting this, it was a blast to write. And of course #AVSFAM itself for loving the Avs the exact appropriate amount: excessively. Also, thanks to all of the people who let their friends and family put their anesthesia videos on YouTube, you really helped me out in this research process.
> 
> Thank you to Lacye ([caperg33l](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caperg33l/pseuds/caperg33l)) for being an incredible beta and cheerleader and for providing the perfect title (from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0r_VuOFwBxI).) And to Allie ([oflights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oflights/pseuds/oflights)) for responding to all my “question…” whatsapp messages about anything from Tyson’s hypothetical cast, to D-man point standings, to the above general anesthesia note.
> 
> Enjoy!

Tyson wakes up mad. He’s not sure where he is, but he knows he’s mad. And hungry.

Someone hands him a cracker and he stuffs it in his mouth, chewing and immediately searching for more. He tries to hold his right hand out, but it feels heavy and weird. Also, there’s a cast on it.

Huh. That explains the hospital bed. His head is foggy and even coming to that conclusion takes some time, what feels like hours, while he methodically munches on the crackers that keep appearing in his non-injured hand.

Tyson wonders vaguely how he hurt himself. Disappointment is swimming around in his stomach, prodding every few minutes just to let him know it’s still there, even if he can’t remember why.

He lets out a huff, annoyed, and bits of cracker he forgot were in there go shooting out of his mouth. His cracker supplier bursts out laughing, and Tyson painstakingly turns his head to glare at whoever that is.

He sucks in a shocked breath, thankfully free of crumbs. The hottest man Tyson has ever seen is standing in his room, with a sleeve of crackers in his perfect hands. “Thank you for nourishing me,” Tyson says, awed. The guy laughs, lighting up his whole horrible, beautiful face.

Tyson lets his eyes roam, taking in the meal in front of him. A carefully groomed beard that only makes his unfairly appealing face even hotter. A tight white t-shirt clinging to toned arms and a solid frame. Fitted jeans that Tyson would honestly love to see the rear view of. He takes a shaky breath.

“What’s your name—what’re you doing in here—who sent you—will you do a spin?” Tyson knows that he’s not supposed to ask so many questions at once, but he doesn’t care; he needs answers.

“I’m Gabe. We’ve met, but I guess you don’t remember that,” the guy says, grinning. Tyson tries to fan himself, forgetting about the cast again and thunking himself in the face.

“You are so lucky that I beat Nate at arm wrestling to decide who got to pick you up. You’d be all over Snapchat if he were here right now,” the handsome, infuriating stranger—wait, Gabe—says.

“Who’s Nate? Does he work with you in the hospital?” Tyson asks. “That’s pretty unprofessional.”

Gabe laughs, clear and bright, and Tyson lets out a happy sigh. “You’re so pretty.”

“Maybe I _should_ film this,” Gabe says. “Nate is your best friend; we all work together, but not in the hospital. Why don’t you eat another cracker, Tys.”

Tyson dutifully takes it, shoving it in his mouth while he wonders how the fuck he manages to work with the cutest guy in the world every day. Maybe he hurt his hand punching a wall over how hot Gabe is.

He slurps down the water Gabe offers him and then stares some more. “Gabe,” Tyson says, wobbly handing the plastic cup back. “What are we?”

A nurse walks in as Gabe rudely laughs right to Tyson’s face.

“It’s normal that he doesn’t remember who I am right now, right?” Gabe asks her.

The nurse— _Nicole_ , Tyson reads, squinting at the hospital ID clipped to her scrubs—tells Gabe he’s just coming out from anesthesia and there’s nothing to be worried about.

“Y’guys know I’m right here, right?” Tyson asks indignantly.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Barrie,” Nicole says, moving over to check his blood pressure. “How are you feeling?”

“I’d feel a lot better if I didn’t have this hulking Adonis taking up half the room,” Tyson grumbles, looking blearily back at Gabe. “Look at that hair! Look at the outfit. Who _is_ this guy?”

Nicole raises her eyebrows at Gabe, smiling slightly. "You want to take this one?"

“I’m your captain, Tyson,” Gabe says, as if that makes any damn sense. “I’m here to make sure you get home safe.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tyson says. “Aye aye, sir.” He looks appraisingly at Gabe again and turns back to Nicole.

“He’s got those eye bags but they’re really working for him, you know?” Tyson says, frowning.“Who does he think he is?”

“Gabriel Landeskog, from what I hear,” Nicole replies, unfastening the blood pressure cuff. Tyson thinks about that for a moment, turns the name over in his head. Gabe hands him another cracker.

“Gabriel,” Tyson says to himself, out loud so he can see how it feels coming out of his mouth. It feels weird, but that might just be because his mouth feels like it’s full of cotton after being out for the surgery. All the crackers probably didn’t help either.

“Are you my hockey captain?” Tyson asks, the idea dawning on him. He doesn’t know what team he’s on now, or even the city he’s in, but he thinks that makes sense.

“That’s right,” Gabe says, smiling down at him. Tyson feels faint.

“Once when I was captain in junior I held a teammate’s hair back while he puked.” Tyson says, thoughtfully. “I guess that’s kinda like this, right Gabe?”

“Sure Tys,” Gabe says, offering another cracker. Tyson takes it happily.

+

Tyson’s still foggy as Nicole wheels him out the front door of the hospital, Gabe hopping out of his car to open the passenger door for him. Tyson sticks out his right hand to shake on instinct and Nicole laughs at him, gives him a pat on the shoulder and tells him to heal fast.

“Ah, the angel,” Tyson says as Gabe walks up.

“What?” Gabe asks.

“Y’know, the angel. Gabriel,” Tyson says, smiling proudly. Gabe shakes his head, but Tyson can tell he’s loving it. Tyson feels really happy with himself.

Gabe helps him out of the chair and Tyson takes the opportunity to breathe in deeply. “You smell like trees,” he says.

“Thanks,” Gabe says, maneuvering him into the car. As Gabe leans over him and makes sure he gets buckled in, Tyson sees a ring glinting on his left hand. Suddenly, Tyson’s eyes are filling up with tears.

Gabe gets in the car and looks over at Tyson messily trying to wipe his eyes with his jacket sleeve. Unfortunately, his arms still don’t seem to want to completely cooperate.

“Oh no, Tys, what’s wrong?” Gabe asks, a little panicked. “Does it hurt? I can run in and grab a nurse real quick.”

Tyson just looks at him, and he feels his bottom lip start to quiver. “You’re _married_ ,” Tyson gets out, tears running down his face. “It’s not _fair_.”

Gabe _laughs_ at him, closing his eyes for a second while he shakes, forehead resting on the steering wheel. “I’m not married, actually. Engaged,” Gabe says, pulling himself together and looking over at Tyson.

“You are not,” Tyson bites. “Guys don’t wear engagement rings.”

“Swedish guys do,” Gabe says, smiling his infuriating smile right at Tyson. It’s a weapon he’s using against Tyson to try to distract from his lies.

“You are not fucking Swedish,” Tyson says, refusing to fall for it. “If you’re gonna lie to me you could at least pretend to do the stupid accent.” He hiccups and wipes away a few more tears, taking a deep breath.

“Jesus Christ, Tyson.” Gabe says, but he sounds fond. Tyson loves that.

“Okay, how about this?” Gabe asks, and then starts belting out something at the top of his lungs. He has a terrible singing voice, and he could be speaking in tongues for all Tyson knows.

“What _was_ that?” Tyson asks, when Gabe finally shuts up.

“The Swedish national anthem,” Gabe says, sounding pleased with himself.

“I don’t know about that,” Tyson says skeptically. He lays his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes, suddenly exhausted. He hears fidgeting to his left, and opens his eyes to see Gabe digging around in his pocket.

“That’s what you get for wearing slutty jeans that cling everywhere,” Tyson says sleepily. Gabe ignores him and pulls whatever he’s looking for out of his pocket. If it’s gum Tyson is definitely making him give him a piece.

Gabe’s hand is warm when he reaches over and takes Tyson’s. His eyes fly all the way open and Gabe is just looking at him, soft smile on his face. He pulls Tyson’s hand toward him and slides a ring onto his finger. “I told you I’d hold onto this while you were in surgery.”

“What...” Tyson starts to ask, staring down at his hand. He just looks for a while, trying to make it make sense. The band is silver and polished and it feels right, having it there. “Whose is this?”

“Yours!” Gabe answers, reaching over and swiping his thumb across the ring.

“Oh God, who did I marry?” Tyson asks, worried. “They’re gonna be so mad I don’t even remember them.”

“Not married, engaged,” Gabe corrects, voice warm. “We’re getting married, Tys.” He’s smiling, until Tyson’s eyes well up again.

“Is this real?” Tyson asks. “Are you lying to me again?”

“I haven’t lied to you this whole time!” Gabe insists, but Tyson stares him down.

“Really?” he asks. “You have to tell me the truth. I’m sick.”

“Yes, really! Please stop crying,” Gabe says quickly, grabbing a napkin from the center console and wiping at Tyson’s wet cheeks.

“Wow,” Tyson breathes out. “How did that happen?” He looks at Gabe, overwhelmed.

“You okay?” Gabe asks. He’s so beautiful.

“You’re _so_ beautiful, Gabe, oh my God,” Tyson says. “You know that, right? Just look at that _chin_ , are you kidding me?”

Tyson fumbles to roll the window down, calling out to a passing group of girls with a bunch of balloons proclaiming that _It’s a Girl!_

“Look at this guy!” Tyson shouts as Gabe tries to roll the window back up. “Not too much, because he’s almost my husband. But look how hot my almost-husband is!” The girls laugh as Gabe finally gets the window all the way up, holding up a friendly hand with his head ducked down.

Tyson presses the button again so he can talk to them about how cute Gabe is when he blushes, but nothing happens. “Child locks are censorship,” Tyson grumbles.

“What am I gonna do with you?” Gabe asks, sounding fond again. Tyson has some suggestions.

“Let’s kiss,” Tyson says, grabbing for Gabe’s stupid fashionable scarf so he can have some momentum to get to Gabe’s mouth.

“Easy, Tys,” Gabe says, carefully moving him back into his seat. “Let’s get you home, okay?” But he leans over and gives him a soft kiss, right on the mouth and everything.

“Okay. Can we have sex when we get there?” Tyson asks, and Gabe bursts out laughing as he finally pulls out of his parking spot. 

+

“Damn, Gabe,” Tyson says, looking up at the big brick house as they turn into the garage. “Nice.”

“You bought this house,” Gabe says, laughing. “I wanted to move you into my place but you refused to be more than 2 minutes away from Nate’s.”

“That’s reasonable,” Tyson says, sticking up for himself, though he’s still not exactly clear on who Nate is. “And obviously I have great taste.” Gabe rolls his eyes, but he helps Tyson out of the car and guides him inside, where a big, beautiful pitbull circles him excitedly, tail wagging.

“Hi...dog,” Tyson says tentatively.

“Zoey,” Gabe tells him, carefully helping Tyson out of his jacket.

“Hi Zoey,” Tyson says, flopping down on the couch and scratching her behind the ears. He twists around to see what Gabe’s up to. He’s across the open living room in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water.

“Two fridges,” Tyson observes. “I like how I think.”

“One is a freezer, but I don’t think you knew that when you closed,” Gabe says, a wide smile on his face.

“Whatever, more room for ice cream,” Tyson says.

“That’s what you said when I pointed it out the first time,” Gabe laughs. “Good to know you’re exactly yourself, with or without all your memories.”

Tyson lies back on the couch and Zoey puts a paw up next to him, adding another when Tyson pats the couch and then heaving her whole body up until she’s spooned against him. Tyson buries his face in her neck and he hears her tail thumping against the cushion. “I love this dog,” he says, muffled.

“She definitely loves you,” Gabe says. “Zoey and I argue about who loves you more all the time, _don’t we Zoey?_ ”

Before Tyson’s brain has time to process that, Gabe is coaxing him to sit up and handing him the water and two pills. “Time for meds.”

Tyson slurps them down and pets Zoey. He’s sandwiched between her and Gabe, who squeezed himself in on Tyson’s left side. They’re both very warm. Tyson feels his eyes starting to droop and lays his head on Gabe’s shoulder.

“This ’s nice,” Tyson says sleepily, and then Gabe ruins it by standing up and pulling Tyson onto his feet. Zoey whines and Gabe says, “Oh, please,” and leads Tyson upstairs to the bedroom.

Tyson lets Gabe steer him to the edge of the bed and lifts his arms obediently when Gabe leans down to help him out of his shirt. He pulls an oversized t-shirt out of one of the drawers, and Tyson blushes furiously as Gabe helps him into it, hands grazing his sides.

After Gabe helps him into sweatpants, fingers tickling his thighs, Gabe winks at him and Tyson giggles. “You’re such a tease,” Tyson says, yawning.

He crawls under the covers and lets his eyes close, face tucked into a pillow that smells like Gabe’s trees. Downstairs, he hears Gabe psyching Zoey up for a walk. He drifts off thinking about Gabe saying he loves him.

+ 

Tyson wakes up on the wrong side of the bed and squints at his phone. It’s after 6 p.m. He shoves at Gabe, who’s curled up next to him on top of the covers.

“Wake up! I haven’t eaten since _yesterday,_ are you nuts?”

Gabe groans and opens his eyes. “Do you not remember the entire sleeve of crackers you ate at the hospital earlier?” he asks. “Also, hello Tyson. Nice to have you back.”

Tyson groans as foggy hospital memories start to come back to him. “Oh my God,” he says, directly into Gabe’s pillow.

He slowly looks over at Gabe, whose grin is wicked. “You just let me twist in the wind!” Tyson says, outraged.

“But Tyson,” Gabe says, voice serious. “It was _so_ funny.”

“Wouldn’t even claim me at first,” Tyson says, sighing dramatically. “Are you that ashamed of me?”

“Well you beat me to the proposal in Sweden, so I finally had my chance to surprise you,” Gabe says, moving under the covers. “Plus, I thought you might appreciate not telling the entire hospital we were engaged before we told the rest of our teammates, and you know, the press.”

Tyson considers that. “Fine, you’re excused,” he says. “But it’s not my fault I’m better at pulling the trigger than you are.” Gabe pinches him.

Tyson squirms away and moves to retaliate before he remembers the cast. He just looks at it for a second, letting the disappointment wash over him again and breathing out heavily. “I can’t believe I’m gonna be out for weeks,” he says quietly.

And then, more indignantly, “I don’t even like blocking shots!”

Gabe looks at him, curled up on his side with his head propped up on his hand. “I know, Tys,” he says, reaching over and putting his free hand on Tyson’s chest, rubbing back and forth with his thumb. “We’re really gonna miss you out there.”

“You better,” Tyson says, throat feeling a little tight. He swallows. “Things were finally going right.”

“Hey, c’mere.” Gabe sits up and leans back against the headboard, tugging Tyson into his lap. He wraps his long arms around him, hugging him tight. Gabe drops a kiss onto Tyson’s collarbone, right where his t-shirt is pulling away from his neck. Tyson feels himself flush.

Gabe slides his hand into Tyson’s sweats, wrapping it firmly around his dick and stroking, slowly applying pressure. Tyson feels himself start to firm up in Gabe’s hand and shudders, heat crawling down his spine.

“I think the number two scoring D in the league deserves some relief,” Gabe says into his ear, deep and gravelly. Tyson wants to make fun of his sexy voice, but he’s too busy trying not to clench his right hand into a fist along with his left. It’s not like that’s possible, with the cast, but even the intention can’t be healthy.

Gabe reaches his other hand down Tyson’s pants, cupping his balls before moving up to his dick and grasping tightly at the base. He withdraws his right hand, leaning over to grab the lube that he’d tossed on the bedside table the night before last.

Tyson pouts when Gabe takes both hands away from him, but he just slicks them up and picks up right where he left off. Tyson is fully hard now and he whimpers when Gabe squeezes him at the base again, like a greeting. He sets a steady pace and flicks his thumb across the head of Tyson’s dick every few strokes. Tyson’s overwhelmed already, squeezing his eyes shut as his stomach clenches.

It doesn’t help that Gabe is still talking in his ear. “Gonna give you what you need,” he promises, slowly moving a hand under Tyson’s shirt, caressing his stomach. Tyson moans when Gabe reaches up and brushes his left nipple, circling it again and again and then pinching down, timing those with firm pressure on his dick. After several minutes Gabe switches sides, giving careful attention to his right nipple before trailing his hand back down over Tyson’s trembling abs and reaching to cup his balls again.

After a few careful caresses, Gabe is reaching back and nudging his fingertips against Tyson’s hole, Tyson biting down so hard on his lip that he thinks it might leave marks. Gabe can’t get the right angle to actually finger him like this—Tyson in his lap, leaning back against his chest—but he’s prodding and teasing at his rim and Tyson can’t take that and Gabe’s warm, quick hand stroking him off at the same time. He gets out a strangled gasp, what he intended to be a warning, and comes in Gabe’s hand.

Gabe kisses his neck and tells him he was good, patting his spent dick gently before he pulls his hands out of Tyson’s sweats. He walks into the ensuite, turning on the tap. Tyson closes his eyes and listens to Gabe wash his hands, whistling.

Tyson’s sprawled out on his back, recovering, when Gabe leans over him and kisses his collarbone again, saying,“C’mon, I’ll take you to the drive thru of your choice.”

“I love you,” Tyson says in his most sincere voice before rolling himself off the bed.

+

Tyson wakes up to a kiss on his forehead and a tray sliding onto his lap, loaded up with pre-cut bites of waffle swimming in syrup, scrambled eggs, turkey bacon and a big glass orange juice—no pulp, the only way he’ll drink it—and his pills lying neatly on a folded napkin next to the silverware. He starts shoveling food into his mouth, smiling up at Gabe between bites.

“Sorry, I wanted to let you sleep, but I’m heading out the door for morning skate and it’s time for your meds. Enjoy, I’ll see you later,” Gabe says, kissing him on the cheek. He grins and leans back in, sticking his tongue out and playfully swiping at where Tyson’s already got syrup on his face. Tyson winks at him, mouth full, and then gulps down some OJ.

“I was saving that,” Tyson insists, watching Gabe and his spandex leggings leave the room.

“Sure you were,” Gabe calls back from down the hall. Tyson returns his attention to the tray, wolfing down breakfast. He swallows the pills and then gets up to pee, grumbling as he attempts to wash his one good hand without help from the other.

He walks downstairs and turns on the TV, making kissing noises until Zoey’s curled up right up against him. He’s halfway through an episode of _Friends_ on Netflix—Monica and Chandler are about to get caught sneaking around together—when his phone chimes. He flips it over and sees a text from Nate.

**_U forgot me?? I thought what we had was special ._  **

Tyson scoffs. Of course Gabe is ratting him out in the locker room. He painstakingly taps out a response with his good thumb.

_U kno it is. Ur my dogg.  
Dont let that man and some drugs get between us._

It takes approximately 2 seconds for Nate to reply.

**_Sorry, who’s this?_ **

Tyson laughs out loud. Zoey eyes him from her spot on the couch. 

_ill tell gabe he has to take my spot passing to u in warmups tonight to make it up to u ;)_

**_U better! Ok EJ is yelling at me for texting see u tonite bye_ **

Tyson makes it through two more episodes before he starts getting antsy. He has a deep love of aimless lounging, but it really takes the fun out of it when it’s your only option. His nervous energy transfers to Zoey, and she whines at the back door until he takes her out and throws her ball for her a few dozen times.

He checks his watch when he comes in, realizing Gabe should be on his way home. His gut tightens, and Tyson remembers that Gabe hasn’t actually fucked him in like, a whole week. An eternity, as far as Tyson’s concerned. He heads upstairs and sprawls himself out across the bed seductively, waiting for Gabe to show up for his nap.

When he hears the alarm system beep as Gabe comes in the door, Tyson instinctively squeezes his eyes shut. He focuses on looking relaxed and breathing evenly.

He hears Gabe greet Zoey, then bounce up the stairs before entering their room. Tyson’s chest is suddenly tight with anticipation, and he maybe stops breathing for half a second.

He feels a warm hand on his arm, and Gabe’s talking to him gently. “Tys, did you even make it out of bed, hon? How’re you feeling?”

Tyson opens his eyes, widening them as they land on Gabe and schooling his face into a look ofawe and also confusion. Honestly, it’s not that tough.

“Who—who’re you? How did you get in here?” he asks, trying to sound unsure.

Tyson sees the concern flicker across Gabe’s face and he tries to bite back his grin, but he knows he wasn’t quick enough because Gabe’s eyes go dark and Tyson’s favorite shithead smirk is pulling at the corner of Gabe’s mouth. He pauses for a moment, thinking.

“They sent me to make sure you’re getting everything you need,” Gabe finally says, tone professional. “Does that make sense, Mr. Barrie?”

“I _think_ so,” Tyson says, playing it up. “I sure am lucky to have someone like you taking care of me.”

Under his breath, Gabe asks, “Do you really want t— _”_ and before he can finish asking Tyson says “Duh” before making his eyes as wide as possible again. Gabe shakes his head, smiling, but then puts his courteous voice back on.

“Are you ready for me to give you what you need?” Gabe asks, his eyes burning into Tyson despite the polite smile he has on his face.

“I’ll take whatever you give me,” Tyson says, trying his best to sound innocent. Judging from the smirk on Gabe’s face he’s failed, but he still leans in over him, so it’s having the desired effect either way.

Gabe reaches down and rolls Tyson over so he’s flat on his back. He carefully places a pillow under Tyson’s head, then uses the other to support his cast. He guides Tyson’s hips up and tucks one of their big throw pillows under Tyson’s ass, propping him up. Tyson can feel himself flushing, face hot.

“How’s that feel, Mr. Barrie?” Gabe asks. “Are you comfortable?”

“V—very, thank you,” Tyson says, and this time the stammering isn’t really part of the act.

“Of course,” Gabe says, smiling politely again. “Now sit tight for a second while I get the rest of my equipment.”

He bends down and rummages through the bedside cabinet, pulling out lube, a clean hand towel and familiar silk rope. Tyson does his best to look puzzled when Gabe leans over him, expertly looping it around Tyson’s left wrist and tying it to the bedpost.

“Is that standard procedure?” Tyson asks him, testing the range of the restraint. It pulls tight quickly, has him straining as soon as he lifts his arm. Gabe leaves his right hand where it is, positioned carefully on the pillow. Regardless, he’s not going far.

“Oh yes,” Gabe answers, watching Tyson test his handiwork. “It’s to keep you safe.”

“Of course,” Tyson says. He lets his arm relax against the bed and takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly and making eye contact with Gabe, who’s still smiling pleasantly down at him.

“Ready?” he asks, and Tyson nods. “I’m going to make you feel much better,” Gabe promises.

He grabs the lube and eases Tyson’s hips back up, pulling his pants down around his ankles. He covers Tyson’s lap with the clean towel, blanketing his half-hard dick. It’s such a perfect illusion of medical faux-privacy that Tyson can’t stop himself from giggling.

Gabe smiles happily but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge the break, humming as he warms his hands up and coats one with lube, expertly opening Tyson up until he’s writhing in the sheets, trying his best to keep his arms relaxed on the bed. It’s a battle he’s losing.

“That’s it, just release all of that tension,” Gabe says, working his fingers in deeper and nudging against his prostate, keeping up an efficient, relentless pace.

“More,” Tyson pants out, rocking into Gabe’s hand as much as he can. “Please, fuck me.”

“If that’s what you need, Mr. Barrie,” Gabe says pleasantly, quickly sliding his pants down to free his hard dick, flushed pink and wet at the tip. Tyson’s mouth is dry.

Gabe moves for a condom, keeping up the act, but Tyson knees him in the hand as he reaches toward the nightstand, furiously shaking his head. He tries to get his legs around Gabe’s waist, but he still has his sweatpants wrapped around his ankles, and his stupid socks are making it impossible to kick them off.

Gabe reaches down and helps Tyson out of one his pant legs, letting Tyson guide him, sighing and closing his eyes, as Gabe finally sinks inside of him. He pushes in steadily, filling him up, and his dick is so hot that Tyson shudders with it. They usually fuck bare, have since they’ve been exclusive, but the fantasy of this makes it even hotter, feel forbidden and wrong.

“Is this how you like it?” Gabe asks, only sounding a little out of breath; Tyson kind of hates him.

He bites down hard on his lip, whimpering a little. “Let it out, it’s therapeutic,” Gabe instructs, slowing down his thrusts until Tyson is aching for it.

“Yes, yes, I like it,” Tyson says, desperate. “I need it, please don’t stop.”

Tyson lies back and takes it as Gabe drills into him, fucking him over and over again and dragging across his prostate in short, targeted thrusts. Tyson feels himself start to let go, and he’s about to come untouched under Gabe’s stupid privacy towel when he hears him.

“Say it,” Gabe urges, pace becoming quicker and more punishing. “Look at me and say it.”

Tyson opens his eyes and they immediately roll back in his head as Gabe drives into him even harder. He doesn’t know what Gabe wants, and all his brain cells are scrambling to figure out what the fuck he can say so he can finally come.

“Thank you,” Tyson says, gasping. “You’re giving me what I need.”

“No,” Gabe chokes out, sweat running down his face. He looks frantic and pleading all at once. Tyson just stares back at him, moaning when Gabe slowly withdraws his dick and then fucks back into him hard.

“Say my name. _Say it_.” Gabe instructs, staring down at him fiercely.

“Fuck _. Gabe_.” Tyson moans, coming hard and straining against the rope, arching his back. “Gabe! Gabe! Oh god. Gabe, _fuck_ you’re so good.”

Gabe comes as soon as he hears his name, filling Tyson up and collapsing forward, panting against his neck. They both lie there for a minute, getting their breath back, and then Gabe leans over and plants a kiss on Tyson’s neck.

Gabe lifts himself off of him and pulls out, pressing his thumb to Tyson’s hole lightly before lifting the towel off of Tyson’s lap and wiping off his own dick before carefully cleaning Tyson up.

He moves around the bed to Tyson’s left side and unties him quickly, massaging the faint imprints left on his wrist. He bends down and kisses Tyson on the mouth, tongue gently moving across his bottom lip. Gabe pulls back and smiles, and Tyson beams back up at him.

“Get over here,” Tyson says, scooting over to make room. Gabe lies down next to Tyson, pulling the duvet over both of them, and Tyson wraps his right arm around Gabe’s waist, pulling him close.  
“Thanks for the pre-nap workout,” Gabe says, delicately fitting his hand around Tyson’s cast. “Hope it was memorable.”

“I could never forget that dick,” Tyson quips, and Gabe’s laugh bursts out of him high and loud. He flips over, pressing his forehead to Tyson’s and kisses him again, gently, while he runs a hand through Tyson’s hair. They keep kissing like that, off and on, until they both drift off to sleep, warm and happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a [Gabe/Tyson primer](http://emilyisobsessed.tumblr.com/post/154391856594/gabe-landeskog-and-tyson-barrie-a-primer) on Tumblr if you wanna know more about these two. I updated it prior to this fic challenge so it now includes everything from this season so far. Also, I’m on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/eknielsen) and talk about the Avs there too. Thanks for reading!


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